


Somewhere to Begin - Timestamp: Genesis 1:31

by bluebells



Series: Somewhere to Begin [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2011-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Michael asked me to check your wards today and they were again weathered beyond usefulness. I don’t understand how you’re still alive. You owe me three pints of blood.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere to Begin - Timestamp: Genesis 1:31

**Author's Note:**

> A look into the future and a book-end for ladyknightanka without whom this story would not exist. ♥

The apartment is dark when Adam turns the key in the door. He’s been at the university library for the last ten hours without a break, he can barely see straight, and he’s too exhausted to eat, though he’s so hungry he considers chewing off the arm of the couch when he drops his books and collapses face down into its cushions.

Adam feels like he could sleep for weeks. Maybe he can after the final exam tomorrow.

There’s a series of missed calls on his phone from Sam and Dean and the exhausted tension in his chest winds tighter. He hopes nothing’s wrong because his medkit is low on supplies and he doesn’t trust that he could even stand at the moment.

But if he could face down Raphael with a broken leg, dislocated shoulder, and a concussion that had seriously messed with his aim, he could check his stupid voicemail.

The numbers and letters blur on the screen, but he manages to dial the right codes before hitting the ‘speaker’ button. He then makes the mistake of closing his eyes as he settles down to listen.

 _“Hey, it’s me!”_ Gabriel’s bright voice makes him chuckle into the cushion. He can hear Sam asking for the phone back and catches the tail of Lucifer’s quiet laughter. _“Just calling to wish you luck for tomorrow, kid. When are you coming to visit us-?”_

The voice in the next message surprises him: Raphael.

 _“Michael asked me to check your wards today and they were again weathered beyond usefulness. I don’t understand how you’re still alive. You owe me three pints of blood.”_

Looks like it was time to bribe Balthazar again, but Adam was going to worry about that _after_ the final tomorrow when the world and its dramas could continue. Annoyance twists through the tension in his chest, because if Michael sent Raphael it mean he wasn’t coming, but then the next message begins and Dean’s smooth, familiar timbre settles a calm over him as sure as his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

 _“Hey. We still good for Friday? I’ll call you when we’re close, but me and Cas should get there in the afternoon….”_

The next time Adam grows aware, he’s startled out of a heavy, dreamless sleep by a weight settling behind him over his hips. Reflex kicks in and he whips the gun out from under the cushions. The butt of his gun hits bone, the visitor grunts, and Adam deflates.

He twists around and Michael frowns down at him.

“That’s not the welcome I was hoping for.” Michael rubs his cheekbone, though Adam knows the archangel would have barely registered the blow.

 _It’s what you get for sitting on part-time hunters trying to catch their beauty sleep_ , he almost says, but his throat is dry, the adrenaline’s fading fast, and he’s even more tired than before.

“Sorry.” He yawns and turns onto his back, already reaching for the archangel.

Michael settles along his side and Adam tucks in against his shoulder with a sigh of relief he’s been holding back all day. He feels light-headed at the scents on Michael’s clothes of clouds, ozone, and the sharp cold of winds at terminal velocity. Adam slides a hand under his shirt to feel the warm, familiar lines of the muscles along his waist and stomach. Is it his imagination, or does Michael feel thinner than before?

On the pillow of Michael’s arm, Adam looks up into his face and he’s surprised that Michael’s expression has turned as weary as Adam feels.

“How was work?” Adam hazards to ask and Michael almost rolls his eyes. It makes him smile.

“Heaven is glorious.”

“That much fun, huh?”

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

It’s Adam’s turn to roll his eyes. He’s had enough of studying. Come hell or high water, it will be over in twenty-four hours; he’s done everything he can. He tries to remind himself that he survived two apocalypses, but if he wasn’t so exhausted, his gut would still be churning.

He huffs out a breath and rolls onto his back, letting his eyes slide shut.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Adam says, pulling Michael’s arm across his waist. Just a few years ago Michael would have been the last person Adam sought for any comfort, but today is now, he hasn’t seen Michael in a week and it’s the best surprise.

Michael’s fingers curl against his side and Adam smiles at the kiss that nuzzles into his hair, then brushes his temple; the archangel’s wordless relief, _Me, too_. Adam turns his face up and catches Michael’s mouth, his entire body humming warm with pleasure because Michael is here, sprawled along Adam’s couch, and if Adam feels deliriously happy it’s not just that he’s faint with hunger. He doesn’t need anything else but this.

This and the brown paper bag that Michael suddenly lofts by his ear, wafting flavours that make Adam’s mouth water.

“I brought dinner. It’s closer to a midnight snack, but… here.”

“I already love you, you don’t have to buy me with dinner,” Adam jokes, but grabs the bag anyway, and Michael laughs as they sit up. The archangel wraps his arms around Adam’s waist from behind, propping his chin on Adam’s shoulder, and Adam attacks the burger with a groan of relish.

“I know,” Michael says, and Adam loves the sound of the smile in his voice.


End file.
